So, you want to be a writer? A Writing Prompt.

You’re a taxi driver. You’re flagged down by a guy but it’s not until he climbs in the back of your cab that you realise he’s bleeding. What do you do? Who is this guy? What’s he running from? Is he running from anything? What’s he carrying? Is he a hero or a villain? Do you help him?

vehicle with yellow and black taxi sign
Photo by Jeremy Semanhyia on Pexels.com

What happens next?

Write a story as long or as short as you want using this as your starting point.

Good luck.

So, you wanna be a writer? A writing prompt.

Okay, today I was thinking we could do a short (or longer) writing exercise based on mood.

When you’re writing a piece, you want the reader to feel something. You want them to feel emotions; happy, sad, wistful, joy or whatever.

So, for this exercise I want you to create a piece of work where the mood dictates the subject. I want you to concentrate on communicating the atmosphere within the piece of work, but without mentioning the actual mood.

Choose a mood.

Brainstorm words around that mood.

Think about the mood and find words that fit it. Think about the sound of words. The feel of the words you’re using.

Now write a piece – as long or as short as you want – using these words to convey the mood but don’t actually tell the reader the mood you’re trying to describe.

I hope that made sense? 🙂

Good luck! Let me know how you get on 🙂

 

So you wanna be a writer? Longer writing prompt.

Trigger warning – this might be upsetting for some.

Grief is an awful thing to go through, but it’s also a process that we all go through.

I use writing as a therapy tool. Man, that sounds so cliche, but it’s true. Every time I go through something that’s hard, or I don’t understand, I tend to work through it in my writing. My Bone, Ashes and Dust Trilogy is a case in point. Depression is a main theme in that series. There are other things I was working through too, like my difficult relationship with my mother (not that the mom in my work is my mom but still I used my experiences to inform that character, I used it as a foundation for Evie’s mother then ran with it).

So, anyway, back to the prompt.

Grief.

There is a  quote by Jamie Anderson on Pinterest:

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot…Grief is just love with no place to go.”

I lost my grandad when I was 11. I was devastated. It was probably one of the most profound things that has ever happened to me. I’m 44 now and still, I feel it. Not as deep or as intense as when it first happened but, even after thirty-one years, the grief is still real.

Today, I want you to work through the difficult emotion that is grief.

Write a piece about your grief. Be brave, be raw, let it all out. It might just help.

Anyway, here’s a little memory of my grandad. He couldn’t talk or walk properly because he’d had several strokes but still, he was my hero.

The Red Leather Chair

The smell of frying bacon drifted in from the kitchen and my stomach groaned in anticipation.  Grandad looked at me with his smiling blue eyes, his thick white eyebrows arched high above his black glasses.
‘Sorry,’ I giggled, shrugging my shoulders, ‘had no breakfast this morning.’
‘Uh,’ he replied, with a shake of his head, a gentle smile erupting on his face as my stomach complained again.  He pointed to the telly with a crooked finger and then to his ears.  ‘Uh-uh.’
I flashed him a cheeky smile and shrugged again.
Shep, my Grandad’s long-haired collie, stirred in the seat beside me.  He yawned loudly, stretching out and laying his head on my lap as I wrapped my hands in his glossy coat and turned my head towards the telly just as it was announced by the heavily bearded commentator that Giant Haystacks and Big Daddy were due in the ring.
Grandad shifted forward to the edge of his seat, his walking stick clattering to the floor as he unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up past his wrinkly elbows in preparation for the fight.
‘Fred, do you want sauce in your bacon?’ shouted Nan from the kitchen, but Grandad was oblivious to it all; he’d only got eyes and ears for that small black and white telly.
Shep leapt from the sofa, dashing behind it as my Grandad’s red leather chair began to dance around the room, the wood and leather creaking and straining under his weight, his grunting harsh but still with lashings of warmth, becoming louder as he lost his mind to the wrestling, to his life as a boxer in the army.
I could never tell anyone who won any of those fights we watched on that battered telly on the Saturday dinner-times we spent together; I was far too engrossed in Grandad’s face to care.  The strokes had robbed him of many things; his speech, the ability to walk or eat independently, but as we sat there I became lost in the sparkle in his eyes and the stories that had become etched in his wrinkles.  It was during these times that I could see my Grandad was still a man and was still truly alive.
But the red leather chair sits empty now; still and lifeless like the room in which it sits.  His grey trilby is still perched at an angle at the back of it, his walking stick abandoned on the floor.  The smell of cigars lingers in the air along with the smell of his hard-earned sweat.  But now the warmth has disappeared and a numbing coldness is seeping into the room through the cracks, filling me with emptiness.

So you wanna be a writer? A writing prompt.

Today is going to be a longer prompt than usual, so hopefully, we can make a more substantial piece of writing out of it.

So, here’s what I want you to do:

Find an object. It can be anything; a shell, a bottle, a watch or a feather, for example.

In note form, describe the object using your five senses. What does it look like? Smell like? Feel like? taste like? sound like?

Write down two places where you would find the object.

What were your feelings when you found the object?

If the object was alive, how would it move?

How would it sound?

How would it speak?

Give the object a memory. Write down one.

Turn the object into a creature.

Now, write a piece putting together all the above. It can be as short, or as long, as you want.

Good luck!

Let me know how you get on 🙂

 

So, you want to be a writer? Story prompt.

Okay, one to think about today.

What makes a monster? Is it the way they look? Or is it something inside them? Or is it both?

Write a story where the monster of the piece is absolutely gorgeous. What makes him or her a monster? What’s inside them? What evil drives them?

man wearing gray suit
Photo by Mihai Stefan Photography on Pexels.com

Next, write a piece where there is a beast but actually he or she is the kindest person you could ever meet. What do they want? How do other people react to them? How do they feel about themselves?

person s gray hoodie
Photo by sebastiaan stam on Pexels.com

Good luck!